The Activity Day Essay

It was a warm day for the end of winter. No wind gusted, no snow covered the earth. We stood in a circle just outside of the school doors. In this circle, we tossed and kicked a small soft bag filled with sand. I was the self-proclaimed leader of the circle, having set up the activity and initiated the game. It was me who dealt with any trouble which may occur in the circle. It was me who organized the infamous “Tuesday Club” for our activity. The activity was called by some, “hackysack.” Some called it “footbag.” It is the latter of the two that is the proper form, but the proper form did not concern us. As a rule, there were very few rules for our game. No hands, no apologies, and no self serves. Everything else was permitted so long as it never brought trouble into our game. Nevertheless, trouble craved the destruction of the circle.

“This is not an authorized activity.” He hummed with a sadistic pleasure as he spoke.
“I’m sorry sir, you must be confused.” I began, <<or delusional>> I thought. “The Tuesday Club is a school sponsored activity that focuses on, but is not limited to, Footbag as a pastime and as a lifestyle.” The balding man snarled. His high horse was slaughtered beneath his oversized rear.

“That is a stretch. And I just wanted to let you know: we are not having any more activity periods because of you.”

“Because of me?” I asked. “Everything I have done was authorized. Why do you seek to point fingers? Your own lack of control over your student body has caused this uneasy chaos; it wasn’t my mistake. And this is NOT a stretch (like your elastic waste band). This is reality. If the school sponsors activities that involve teams of people to ram each other to gain a ball, plummet down an icy mountain, or work strategies to dominate others in war type games, surely this same school will have no problem accepting a group of people standing in a supervised circle socializing and passing a sack full of sand around. What was the problem again?”

The bald man snarled. His gray eyes glazed over, he walked away and murmured something incoherent to the enormous ape that was just inside the doors. The ape said nothing as I followed the senile fool. “Excuse me.” I asked. The ape and his master said nothing. The fear on the fat old man’s visage smelled of raw fish. His dazed vision was cast over my head, refusing to touch my eyes. Should I have been waving frantically with one arm, he would have swelled out his chest a little more and paid no attention. The ape was no different. He stood, completely unaffected by what was going on around him, with a cold indifference.

Firsthand accounts are relayed to me about that fat balding man occasionally. How he hits on those girls basketball/volleyball/soccer/tennis players during class, how he ignores students because of some petty fashion flaw or lack of appeal. Yes, that man has some great characteristics. Unfortunately for the school (students and teachers), he is a perverted teacher with tainted teaching techniques. With a gut that hangs over his belt buckle, he isn’t afraid to tell students off. During one test, a student walked past the old fool to sharpen a pencil and was disgusted to find the senile jerk checking her out. He is afraid of students who actually use logic when discussing problems. When I relayed my point to him, he walked away. With a deliberate turn, he just wandered away like a confused mental patient. Quite a role model!

The freshmen don’t even notice anymore. The blind automatons just follow orders, never asking who is giving them. Who am I to tell them otherwise? Would that not make me one of the hypocritical saps of who I am now undermining? It doesn’t matter though. Once I am gone, these fools will never again influence my life. I may laugh one day when the balding old “teacher” is convicted of criminal sexual conduct, but that will be when I am living in my fifteen million dollar home in California, the new leader of the Hackysack craze that sweeps the nation; the same time that every member of the Tuesday Club will hold the highest and most coveted jobs in the world. Mwuahahahahaha!

Maybe life won’t end this way, but it should. If justice does prevail, the senile fool will realize the arrogant error of his evil ways. Destroying a thing of peace does not result in peace. Hackysack, contrary to popular belief, does not cause harm, chaos, disorder, anarchy, chronic drug use, looming plots to overthrow things, vandalism, corruption, death, destruction, violence, injury, voodoo, Satanism, coveting of thy neighbors wife, worshipping false gods, use of my name in vain, hyperactivity, soulless heathenism, conversion, repression, uprising, earaches, stomach flu, the plague, hatred, injustice, a student not to do his homework, a student to skip classes, failure, abnormal eating disorders, prejudice, bigotry, alienation, alien nations, or narrow-mindedness. No, it just helps people to raise their grades, release their stress, excel in physical activity, gain dexterity, calm the mind, calm the soul, express themselves, form new friendships, recover from ailments, recover from addictions, recover from abuse, find security, find safety, find comfort, find a place to belong, find a place to be themselves, find themselves, enjoy their time alive, enjoy their time at school, lose weight, open their minds, open their creative potential, succeed in something non-academic, stand out from the rest, sustain their sanity, prolong their existence, gain tolerance, gain patience, gain control, gain dignity, gain honor, gain respect, learn to exist with others, free their captive minds from the bounds of an authoritarian environment, be individuals, and share in a great happiness initiated by a tiny bag of sand.